


I Don't Think You're Supposed To Do That With Food

by blackgoliath



Series: Graceland More Like Gayland [7]
Category: Graceland (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 16:01:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackgoliath/pseuds/blackgoliath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bakery AU: Briggs gets Mike alone and puts some of the ingredients inside the bakery to good use</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Think You're Supposed To Do That With Food

So he's not sure how this happened.

Just two weeks ago Mike had gotten the job of a lifetime; Graceland Bakery, practically famous in California, had hired _him_ as its newest employee. It was his biggest dream, what he'd strived for ever since he'd first discovered his love of cooking, ever since he'd first seen that warm smile and those precious dimples appear on his television screen on the cooking channel. Paul Briggs was Mike's hero, his inspiration in the kitchen, everything that kept him going when culinary school seemed too hard and expensive to swing. Sure, it wasn't the most _conventional_ of motivations - everyone else in his class either had a parent or a sibling who was "brilliant in the kitchen", someone in their family that they looked up to and had therefore come to school to impress - but Mike didn't care. He'd never cared. When the framed picture he kept of Briggs (from one of his big cooking contests he'd won) was discovered and he got weird looks from his classmates from then on, he'd comforted himself with dreams of working with the famous Paul Briggs, showing the older more experienced baker just how good Mike Warren could be behind a stove. And almost as if his dreams had come to life, he'd done it. He'd applied and got the job, filling the latest opening in Briggs' nation-renowned bakery.

His first few days at the bakery had been incredible. Everyone seemed to like him, despite his relative naivete compared to the rest (only Lauren gave him the cold shoulder, possibly because he was taking the position her friend, some guy named Donnie, had filled before he'd been fired). Though Briggs was a bit....different from what he'd expected, it hadn't hampered his joy in the slightest. Here he was, at Graceland, baking with his hero, making new friends and learning all sorts of tricks of the trade that he hadn't been taught in school.

Then came the night he was working late on one of Briggs' personal recipes, when only he and Briggs were left in the entire shop. 

"Don't worry," Briggs says, startling Mike as he pours over the open cookbook on the table beside him. He almost breaks the egg in his hand at this interruption. "This one takes a few tries, but I'm sure you'll get it."

"Thanks." Mike keeps his eyes on his work. A burst of nerves - fluttering in his stomach, butterflies trying to thrust their way up through his esophagus and out of his mouth - keeps him from meeting Briggs' eye.

"Don't mention it. Believe it or not, we were all rookies, just like you. It takes time to get all of this stuff down, you know?"

"Yeah, I know."

Mike carefully cracks the egg into the bowl he's using, extremely aware that Briggs is still standing there, right next to him, watching his every move. After a moment he lets out a nervous laugh.

"It's kind of hard to, um, you know, mix this, when you're standing right there---"

"Am I making you nervous?" Briggs sounds amused. It makes the hairs on the back of Mike's neck stand up, but in a good way.

"Kind of, yeah."

"Sorry. I'll get out of your way." 

But Briggs doesn't move, and when Mike finally gets the courage to look up he sees that Briggs is even closer than he thought, barely a foot away, his eyes locked not on the bowl but on Mike's. _How did he...?_ Mike wonders, but he can't finish the thought. Briggs is too close. Mike is painfully sensitive to the dimples in Briggs' cheeks, the way his skin crinkles around his eyes, lines appearing from years of smiling and laughter. Mike feels something warm and bright shoot straight from his gut to his crotch, and before he knows what he's doing he's setting the egg down and taking Briggs' face in his hands, brushing his lips over Briggs' once before the cold water of reality hits him and he pulls back, dropping his arms.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to---"

"Don't apologize." The dimples are gone but Briggs' mouth is back on his and for the first time in a long time all thoughts of cooking are driven from his mind. One hand scrabbles back against the stove for purchase, twisting dials he probably shouldn't while the other is curled in the soft fabric of Briggs' t-shirt. That mouth, those lips he'd sometimes thought of kissing when he was drunk and could pretend it hadn't been real the next day tasted just as he'd always imagined - like pie, warm crust left to rise in the oven and juicy, mouth-watering berries picked fresh from the bush and all in all he feels he could probably stop eating for the rest of his life because this, this one kiss would be enough to sustain him--

Briggs traces Mike's bottom lip with his tongue and Mike almost forgets how to breathe.

"I want to show you something," Briggs says quietly as he pulls back a bit, and Mike's nodding before he knows what it is. "Take off your clothes."

Mike's already stripped down to his boxers before he even forms a question in his mind. "What did you have in mind, exactly?"

"You'll see."

Briggs takes care of the boxers for him (with his fucking _teeth_ , Mike didn't think that was something anyone did outside of the bad porn he watched on his computer when he was lonely) and gently pushes him onto his back on one of the counters, lips kissing a wet trail down to Mike's bellybutton before Briggs straightens and walks off to the fondue pot he's had on the stove the entire time. Mike lies there with the cold air of the closed shop ghosting over his body and tries not to think about how embarrassingly turned on he is already. Then Briggs is coming back with the pot and a spoon and a box of strawberries and any other questions Mike had are instantly answered. 

Mike’s breath hitches as the chocolate drizzles onto his bare skin. It’s comfortably warm, and Mike is thankful that Briggs knows what he’s doing, as only a few minutes ago this chocolate was bubbling in a fondue pot on the stove. Briggs is making complex spirals and designs on Mike’s chest, and Mike, for a moment, holds his breath at how amazing it is, and remembers why Briggs is so well-known. He’s decorating Mike with the same care and concentration he would use for any of his famous cakes, and Mike’s just thinking how incredible it is that he’s here, with this man in this way, and how talented Briggs is when Briggs takes the opportunity to make a chocolate arrow on Mike’s stomach that points straight at his semi-erect penis.

Mike scoffs, despite his nerves. “Are you five?”

“Maybe.” Briggs grins, dimples peppering his cheeks as he leans forward and neatly licks off a spiral surrounding one of Mike’s nipples. Mike’s eyelids flutter slightly and he has to swallow an intense urge to tell Briggs to forget the foreplay and get straight to fucking him silly. It’s almost as if Briggs reads his mind; Mike feels his wrists pinned by strong hands as Briggs slowly and deliberately erases every last line of chocolate.

By the time he reaches the arrow Mike’s erection is no longer in the semi stage - he’s hard and ready and pulling a little at Briggs’ grip, tilting his hips up in anticipation. Briggs licks up the very last bit of chocolate, just inches away from Mike’s cock, and when he pulls back with another grin Mike groans in frustration.

“Don’t be so impatient, kid.” Briggs runs his tongue over his lips to get any chocolate that may be clinging there and Mike practically whimpers. 

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

Briggs laughs. “That’s the point.” He takes a strawberry from the bowl nearby, expertly plucking off the green leaves at the top. Bracing himself above Mike (who’s currently flat on his back on the counter) Briggs traces Mike’s mouth with the tip of the strawberry, waiting for him to bite off half and eat it before kissing him softly. Luckily for Mike, Briggs isn’t the most patient person either, and when Mike sucks Brigg’s lower lip between his teeth Briggs gives a little moan. It seems that this is enough to push any thoughts of further torture from Briggs' mind.

Briggs draws back to drop his boxers and drags Mike up against him, pulling Mike’s legs around his waist. He shoves Mike up against the wall behind the counter and grinds against him, making them both moan.

“We’ll use the rest of the strawberries next time,” he says. He's already prepared himself, Mike discovers as two wet and warm fingers press between his ass cheeks and push inside him. He's never had someone do this to him before and so it hurts a little bit, but Briggs is slow and patient (despite his earlier hurry) and soon Mike is gasping and pushing himself down on all three of the fingers Briggs has scissoring inside him. 

"Just--Just do it," Mike moans. He's not disappointed; Briggs pulls his fingers out and only a few seconds later they're replaced by something harder, something bigger, and Mike digs his teeth into his lip to keep from crying out (whether in pain or in pleasure he's not sure). His chest is still sticky from the chocolate and his skin pulls at Briggs' once the older baker is all the way inside him, pressed flush against him, Mike's head tilted back against the wall as he continues to fight hard against the various noises threatening to bubble out of his throat. When Briggs starts to move, slowly and then gradually increasing in speed and intensity, Mike fights a losing battle, groans slipping past his lips as his fingers search for purchase in Briggs' shoulders. Then Briggs angles himself a certain way - _almost as if he knows what he's doing_ Mike's brain whispers, and he tucks the thought away to dwell on later - and Mike gives a shout, arching up, body shaking, and Briggs is still going, still digging his fingertips into Mike's hips as he fucks him into the wall. Mike tightens his legs around Briggs' waist and before he can even think of anything else to do besides gasp and shudder he's pushed over the edge, muscles tensing as he finishes hard and hot all over Briggs' stomach.

Probably not the most graceful of orgasms, he has to admit. His legs are like jelly and it's only Briggs and the wall working in tandem that are keeping him from sliding to the ground and lying there until he can think straight again. He's barely catching his breath when Briggs is pulling out of him, cock still hard and throbbing, and letting him fall to his knees on the bakery's tiled floor. 

"Don't fall asleep on me yet," Briggs says with a smile, and all Mike can do as he leans back against the wall again is smile sheepishly in return. He sees Briggs' hand moving like lightning along his own dick, one hand braced against the wall behind Mike, and it takes his usually quick brain a moment to realize what his boss is doing. He's leaning forward to assist but it's too late, Briggs is already coming with a groan, semen splurting across the bridge of Mike's nose and over his cheeks. When Briggs looks down at him with mild regret Mike laughs and licks a drip from his upper lip. 

"That was....new." Mike experimentally wipes some of the semen off his face with a finger and sticks the digit in his mouth, sucking it clean. The taste is different, not unpleasant, and he glances up to see that Briggs is giving him an almost pained look. "You okay?"

"What? Oh. Yeah, I'm fine. Better than fine, actually." Briggs is on his knees too. "Here, let me get a napkin--"

"No, I'm fine. I'll get the rest."

Mike wipes his face off completely, licking his fingers as he goes, and Briggs makes a soft noise in the back of his throat. It's an interesting reaction that Mike catalogues in the back of his mind for further analysis at a later date. 

"You know," Mike says eventually, once his face is mostly clean, "I still have a cake to finish baking."

"That'll have to wait; you should get cleaned up."

"I can wait until I get home. It's not like there's a shower around here."

"Actually," Briggs says, standing up with a wink, "There is." He holds his hand out for Mike to take, and when he's pulled Mike to his feet he swoops in a presses a chaste kiss to Mike's cheek. Mike tries not to give away how much his heart has just melted into fondue itself. "Come with me." 

Mike's cake would not be finished for a few hours yet, and when he finally starts working on it, Briggs' hands guiding his, his back pressed against Briggs' chest, he figures that it doesn't matter how he this happened; he's just glad it did.


End file.
